


Maybe Next Time

by Goddess_of_the_Night



Series: The Time Series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babysitter Sherlock, Daddy John, Eventual Smut, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, John Watson has a son, M/M, Mary is not around, Professor John, Student Sherlock, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unilock, fake boyfriends, like seriously fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3396410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess_of_the_Night/pseuds/Goddess_of_the_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. John Watson is a professor where Sherlock Holmes is a student. Single-father John's original request that Sherlock babysit gets a little complicated when Mama Watson gets involved.</p><p>"Never talk to the mother who thinks you’re dating her only son unless you’re actually dating her only son."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this roughly 7 years ago as an original story with my own original characters at the center, but when I reread it I desperately wanted to put John and Sherlock in the scenario. So I'm very sorry if they seem forced in to costumes.
> 
> Also, I'm American and this has not been brit-picked, so I'm sure there's plenty of small details wrong when it comes to university and things. Sorry about that.

“Sherlock, could you come here for a minute?” I hear Professor Lestrade call to me as I’m passing by his office.

“Of course,” I say as I walk in, “What can I do for you?”

“Close the door, please.”

I lift an eyebrow in surprise. Usually when my academic advisor and head of the Pharmaceutical Department asks me to close the door I’m either in trouble or I’m expected to snitch. Seeing as I’ve always had a better relationship with my professors than my fellow students, I have no qualms giving my honest opinion and do not fear backlash. Once the door is closed, I move to lean against the table across from his desk expectantly.

“As you probably know, I have to finish my evaluation of Dr. Watson,” Dr. Lestrade informs me with a significant look. I understand now: he’s referring to the second-year Pharmaceutical Anatomy professor who is on thin ice and has a track record of appearing to flirt with me. It started last year – my third year – when I took his class.

“Yes, sir,” I reply neutrally.

“I’ve…noticed myself and heard rumors from others of him being friendly with you,” he blushes with awkwardness, but his attempt at subtlety is appreciated.

“Yes, sir,” I repeat.

“Has anything happened? Between the two of you?”

I’ve never been very good at hiding my emotions when I’m not trying to get something from someone, so when surprise, curiosity, hurt, and anger all pass over my face as I stare him directly in the eye, I know the message makes it across loud and clear, “No,” I try not to growl defensively, I really do. It doesn’t work.

“I didn’t mean to accuse you,” he stumbles over his words awkwardly. Out of all of my professors, Dr. Lestrade probably knows me the best out of anyone in the department, so he does recognize his error, “You know I trust you to do the right thing.”

He also knows that I typically don’t find other people attractive…but as a secret between me, myself, and I, Dr. Watson is quite the specimen. He’s only a few years older than me, and all of the females and half of the males would not give a second thought to having relations with him, mostly for his body. I appreciate his mind, as well; he is not quite as big of an idiot as most everyone else is.

“I know,” I respond tersely.

“I had to be sure.”

“I know.”

“You _do_ flirt back,” he insists.

I sigh heavily and roll my eyes, “I hardly mean to. I’m merely trying to be friendly.”

Dr. Lestrade raises an eyebrow in shock, “Really? _‘Trying to be friendly’_ is the line you’re going to go with?”

I smirk, “To be fair, he’s not a complete idiot. Also, he’s been having a difficult time adjusting to University life, particularly the aspect of not being much older than the students he’s teaching. He’s also compensating for being shorter than most of us. Overall, I think that not only is he very competent in his field area and is an asset to this program, but that he will be an even better one once the age gap increases and he is no longer on probation.”

He genuinely smiles at me, “That is wonderful insight that is helpful to me and my next step. Thank you, Sherlock.”

“Not a problem,” I push off of the table and only pause when my hand is on the doorknob, “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, that is sufficient for now. Thank you again.”

I merely nod and turn the knob to exit the room. A few steps down the hall I run in to Mike Stamford, another fourth year Pharmaceutical major. There aren’t very many of us left in our final year - most being weeded out within the first two years - so we tend to know each other well. Doesn’t mean I like most of them, but Mike is an exception. He’s not nearly as competent as I am, but he’s hardly a lost cause.

“Hello, Sherlock,” he smiles.

“Hello,” it comes out more like an exhale than I mean it to.

“What uh…what’s up?” His smile fades a little with his ineloquent words.

“Just Lestrade, it’s nothing,” I try to brush off further questioning out of habit, but I doubt Mike will take the hint and I’m not entirely certain I want him to.

“What’d he do?” He whispers as he glances back towards the door we’ve been steadily walking away from.

I sigh, “Mike, can you just drop it?”

He looks at me for as long as he dares while continuing to walk, “No,” he finally states firmly, eyes turning forward again.

“He simply wanted to know if anything has happened between me and Dr. Watson,” I admit quietly.

“You mean besides the two of you flirting all the time?” he smirks; I can hear it in his tone without turning to see it.

“Oh, for the love of…we do not flirt!” I blush.

“Yeah, right. Okay. But who could blame you?” He starts sarcastic and finishes wistfully and I send a side-glare his way before he continues more seriously, “did Lestrade actually think that something has happened?”

“No,” I say unconvincingly, “he just needed to check.”

He nods, “For the evaluation.”

I nod in return. Everyone knows about the evaluations; every new professor, no matter their age, goes through a two year probationary period with their department. If something had ever happened between us – which it truly hasn’t - it very well could be the end of his job here.

“Where are you off to, then?” Mike asks me.

“The labs; I’ve got to get started on those experiments for Chemistry. What about you?”

“I was headed to the vending machines; it’s nearly dinner and I haven’t eaten all day. You know how it goes,” he smirks.

“Yes,” I chuckle, “must be a Wednesday.”

He groans, “They are _the worst_ ,” I hum in agreement – everyone knows they are typically the longest of our days – before we approach the staircase, “Well, maybe I’ll see you in a bit since I also haven’t started those experiments.”

“You know where I’ll be for the next significant portion of my life,” I smirk with a wave as he moves down the stairs while I head up.

Once I reach the top floor I turn to my right and head down the hall past the majority of the faculty offices to the lab. I notice that Dr. Watson’s door is open and habitually glance inside as I pass to glimpse him sitting at his desk.

“Sherlock,” he smiles and waves me in, “I wanted to ask you something.”

The man’s smile, I will never admit to anyone, does something to my insides that isn’t entirely unpleasant.

I walk in, “Yes?” I ask with genuine curiosity and no trace of the contempt that can so often lace my words.

“Are you free on Friday night to babysit?”

Did I ever mention that he is a single father? His son Kyle is four-years-old and appears to be extremely attached to me. Now, for some unfathomable reason to myself and my peers, I’m actually one of the most called upon students for babysitting our professors’ children. If I had to guess why, I’d probably say that it’s because I allow the teens to do whatever they want and they don’t tell their parents that, just say how wonderful I am so that I come back. Dr. Watson’s son, however, is the youngest of any of the children and I have no idea why he’s so taken with me. If I were honest with myself – which I detest to be – I would admit that I am also fond of the tiny human in a way I never thought possible before.

“Yes, that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Great,” he smiles again, “I would need you from about six until probably pretty late,” he sounds apologetic.

“How late, exactly?”

“Late enough where you might need to spend the night on the couch?” He asks, sounding unsure and uncomfortable being such an imposition. It would hardly be the first time I’d spent the night on his couch; with him living so far away and my not driving, it’s impractical to drive me back once Kyle has fallen asleep.

I think about the projects and experiments that are already on my to-do list and calculate how many more I’m likely to have added on prior to the weekend before making up my mind, “As long as I can be back at a reasonable time on Saturday, that shouldn’t be an issue.”

As I say it, Dr. Lestrade appears in my head with his disapproving look. I subtly shake my head to get rid of the image.

“Wonderful, I really appreciate it,” he is honestly one of the most genuinely appreciative people I have ever met, and I simply can’t understand it, “I can pick you up here around 5:15 if that would be okay.”

“Sounds fine,” I nod with a small smile.

“Thank you, Sherlock,” his eyes show his honesty, but it’s a nice honesty unlike the harsh one my own typically portray. If I didn’t find this man attractive, his sickeningly sweet demeanor would probably make me sick.

“Of course,” I reply easily before heading back towards the door, “I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

I practically ignore his response as I enter the hallway and huff out a large, quiet breath as I finally make my way to the lab.

I sit down and get the first experiment to a stable stage within ten minutes, then move slightly to rub my eyes because I feel a headache coming on. Now that Lestrade has pointed out what other people are seeing in regards to Watson and myself, I feel alarmingly on edge about it all. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea lest his job becomes jeopardized, but I also don’t want him to think I’m entirely uninterested. It’s been an incredibly long time since I’ve taken an interest in someone romantically, and it’s not something that I take lightly.

The lab door opening startles me to a straight sitting position, but I relax again as I realize that it’s just Mike coming in as he eluded he might earlier.

“Still not over what Lestrade said, then?” He asks as he comes over and sits next to me.

I merely sigh in response and look towards the experiment, but it’s not close enough to move on to the next stage yet.

“Sherlock,” he presses insistently.

“Mike,” I imitate his tone perfectly back to him.

“Seriously, don’t let what he said get to you; I’m sure he honestly doesn’t think anything has happened.”

“I don’t care about what Lestrade thinks,” I grumble petulantly.

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow, “Then cheer up.”

“When have I ever been cheerful?”

“Good point, that,” he laughs, “speaking of cheerful, though, are you going to Molly’s party on Friday?”

I scoff, “You know I don’t do parties.”

“You have a couple of times, and the ones hosted by the Medical Examiner crew are usually some of the best. You should come.”

“Even if I wanted to - which I don’t - I’m busy that night.”

“What? You got yourself a hot date?” He jibes and I blush, looking away from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I roll my eyes even though he probably can’t see them, “I’ve been roped in to babysitting that night."

“Who for this time?”

“Watson,” I manage to say it without furthering my blush.

“Well that’s fine; the party probably won’t start until about the time you get back. You should still come.”

I shake my head, “No, it’s likely that he won’t be back until after Kyle’s asleep.”

His mouth drops open, “Sherlock, no. Tell me you did _not_ agree to spend the night.”

I look him in the eye with as much courage as I can muster and reply, “Yes I did.”

“Why the bloody hell would you agree to that after your talk with Lestrade?!” He fumes and I shush him as I reflexively glance towards the door.

“You know I have a difficult time saying no to professors,” I say in a calm voice.

“You better be able to say no when he tries to sleep with you!” He’s still raging.

“Will you keep your voice down?” I hiss angrily, “Jesus Christ, Mike.”

“I’m sorry,” he says at a more normal level, visibly trying to calm himself, “I just don’t want this coming across the wrong way to people, for your sake. He must have no idea about the line of questioning his evaluation is taking.”

“And I’m certainly not going to clue him in; that would be awkward.”

“You - the man who doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings - won’t tell him because you don’t want to embarrass him?” He sounds shocked.

“I meant awkward for me. I won’t inflict that discussion on myself.”

He smiles, “That sounds about right. Well just be careful, yeah?”

“Of course I will,” I say pompously, leaving no doubt that there is no other choice.

With that I return to my experiment and Mike actually begins his. We work in companionable silence, helping each other as needed for about four hours before I decide to go back to my room and focus on other work.

I do my best to forget I’m even babysitting on Friday until the day comes, not letting it distract me. There’s no reason to think about it, it’s just another job; one I’ve done many times before.

On Friday morning, I literally run in to Watson in the hall as I’m buried in a book. We laugh as he grasps my upper arms to right me, letting go once I’m stable.

“Alright there?” He’s still smiling.

“Yes, sorry about that,” I grin sheepishly.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. Are we still good for 5:15 tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Meeting just out front be alright?”

“Yes, no problem,” I nod. We part ways with small smiles on both of our faces.

I arrive precisely at 5:14 with my overnight bag slung over my shoulder. The April air is nice enough where I almost wish that he didn’t exit the building exactly one minute later so that I could enjoy it more.

“Have you eaten yet?” Is the first thing he asks me once we’re on our way.

“No, I figured I’d be making something for Kyle anyway, as usual.”

He clears his throat awkwardly, “Yes, well, there’s been a bit of a change of plans and I’m afraid I need to ask a favor of you.”

I curiously stare at the side of his face with no trace of a smile on mine. People do not ever ask favors of me because they know I probably don’t care enough about helping them out. Babysitting is not a favor because he pays me well for that, so what else could there be? “There’s not another child involved, is there?” I ask with distaste.

He chuckles nervously, “No, nothing like that,” he glances at me quickly from the corner of his eye, “the reason you’re babysitting is so that I can have a meal with my parents where I expect - as history would prove - I am to be berated for a great many things,” he tries to smile and make that light-hearted, but my brow furrows in confusion and a hint of empathy.

“Okay,” I say slowly, prompting him to continue once it was clear he had stopped for the moment.

“The thing is...” he starts, then clears his throat again, “they think I’ve been seeing someone and I’m not. Just before I met you outside my mother called and insisted that I bring him with tonight.”

I blink slowly in confusion, “You told them that you have a boyfriend?”

“They know I’m bisexual, and I stupidly thought that they wouldn’t insist on meeting this imaginary person if they were male.”

“Why would you even _pretend_ to be with anyone? Why should they care either way?” I ask a bit angrily.

He sighs heavily, and tilts his head away from me, “There’s a long backstory to that.” He doesn’t continue and I don’t push because I don’t really want to hear it. I turn my head to the left so I can look out the window and focus on breathing.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly a minute later, “forget I said anything. I should never have asked you to do that.”

I purse my lips together as my heart clenches at the absolutely distraught and resigned tone in his voice. Why is it that I cannot care a lick about any other person except for him?

I sigh heavily before I reply calmly, still facing the window, “What would the facade entail?”

He inhales sharply in shock, “As far as I can tell my parents would meet us at my apartment, we would all go out for dinner, and then you and Kyle would stay at the apartment while they took me back out to yell at me properly.”

I nod, trying not to blush thinking about pretending to be the boyfriend of someone I wouldn’t mind actually being the boyfriend of. I swallow thickly, “Okay.”

He looks over at me sharply for a second before turning back to the road, “Okay as in yes?”

“Yes, as long as I don’t have to be more dressed up than this,” I indicate my jeans and light blue button down shirt.

“You look absolutely fine,” he assures me, “are you positive you’re okay with this? You don’t have to do this.”

“I know all about nagging parents and I’m a surprisingly adequate actor. It’s fine,” I smile slightly at the end trying futilely to normalize the situation.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, and then we’re silent for the remainder of the trip to his apartment.

When we arrive, we walk in to find one of his neighbors watching Kyle.

“Daddy!” the four-year-old runs to Watson with his arms raised expectantly, a gigantic smile on his face.

Watson smiles brightly and lifts him up for a hug before turning him towards me, “Look who I brought home.”

“Lock!” he shouts my nickname (he had difficulty pronouncing my full name when we first met) and throws his arms out to come over to me. As Watson passes him over, our arms graze and I blush slightly.

“Hello, Kyle,” I smile genuinely as I hug him close. I really do love this child, even though I can’t explain how or why it happened.

“I’ve missed you,” he pouts, “you’ve been gone so long.”

“It’s only been about two weeks,” I laugh as I position him on my left hip.

“Seems longer,” the pout intensifies.

“I know, sweetheart,” I say quietly. I’ve never used a nickname or endearment for anyone else in my life, no matter how old, but I can tell it means a lot to Kyle when I do so I don’t hesitate. His mother hasn’t been in the picture since he was about two, I gather; he never even knew her. Watson does his best, but I know it’s hard for them both.

Kyle wiggles in my grasp, so I move to place him back on the floor as Watson is walking the neighbor to the door.

“Kyle’s quite taken with him,” I hear the elderly woman say.

“He’s his favorite,” he smiles.

“So I’ve noticed,” her eyes twinkle knowingly, “have a good night, John.”

“You too, Mrs. Hudson, and thank you.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” she assures as she leaves.

“Lock!” Kyle grabs my left hand, “come see the toy daddy bought me!” he pulls me down the hall towards his room before I can say anything. When we enter, he lets go of my hand and immediately grabs a large green dragon stuffed animal, “see?”

“That’s pretty cool,” I kneel next to him. There are words in my vocabulary that are reserved solely for this child and I would never say to anyone else.

“Yeah,” he beams, snuggling his face in it.

“What’s his name?”

“Ralphie.”

“Why did you name him Ralphie?”

“I have a friend at school named Ralphie,” he says brightly.

“Is that right? Is he your best friend?”

“Yeah, he’s funny.”

“How so?” I ask as Watson comes to the doorway and leans against the frame, just watching us with a smile. My stomach twists.

“He tells funny stories.”

“Do you remember any?” He thinks hard about it, his little brow furrowing with the effort. He frowns and says, “no.”

“That’s okay,” I assure him, trying to get the pouted lower lip to retreat back to its normal placement where it’s not in danger of inciting a tantrum.

“Daddy, tell Lock a funny story,” he demands seriously.

“I don’t think I know any, love.”

“But daddy!” he whines.

“It’s okay, Kyle,” I try to assure him again, “I don’t need to hear one.”

A knock on the front door takes us all by surprise and stops Kyle’s assuredly petulant response.

“That must be Grandma and Grandpa,” Watson says to Kyle, “let’s go say hello,” he tries to grab his hand as I stand up, brushing off the knees of my jeans.

“No, daddy, I want Lock to carry me,” he insists as he stands, leaving Ralphie on the floor.

“Okay then,” he smiles at me as I lift the boy back on to my hip and we make our way to the door just as another knock resounds.

When Watson’s parents enter, I’m a little surprised to see two of the most chipper people I’ve ever met in my life. I don’t know why I thought they’d be sinister - maybe it was his story from the car - because he and Kyle are perpetually smiling; they must have gotten that from somewhere.

“Hello dear,” his mom says as she hugs Watson and then turns to Kyle and me, “Where’s my grandson?”

She smiles as she reaches for him but he holds on to me tighter and turns his face towards my neck, “Being a bit shy isn’t he? Oh well,” she shrugs and then looks at me, “Oh! You must be Sherlock.”

I smile, “Yes ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Watson.”

“Oh please, call me Barbara,” she hugs me and Kyle in one fell swoop then places her hand on my right arm as she turns to her husband, “Bill, this is him,” she says excitedly.

I notice Watson roll his eyes slightly and my smile widens.

“Well, it’s certainly a pleasure to finally meet you; John’s told us so much about you.”

I blush and raise a single eyebrow as I look at Watson, “Has he now?”

I begin to wonder how long the “Sherlock is my boyfriend” game has been going on and if it really was a last minute surprise or if this ruse could have been pulled off with anyone other than me.

“Oh yes, and you’re just as handsome as he described,” Barbara smiles.

I smile brightly as my blush increases, “thank you,” I say as I see Watson cover his flushed face with his right hand.

“Grandma, I’m hungry,” Kyle pipes up finally.

“Of course you are. Let’s go ahead and make our way to the restaurant.”

“I have to pack a bag for Kyle real quick. Sherlock, would you help me?” he asks with a pointed look.

“Okay,” I say and turn to Kyle, “do you want down, or over to Grandma or Grandpa?”

“Down is fine,” he says, and I move to place him down. He stays in place as I follow Watson to the boy’s room where he closes the door once we’re both inside.

“This is turning out to be more embarrassing than I originally thought it would,” he whispers with a grim expression.

“Would you rather I stay here instead?” I ask sincerely.

“No, that’s not what I meant, I guess I just wanted to apologize before this continues.”

“What for? I’m fine,” I insist, and strangely it’s the truth.

“All of the awkward,” he says vaguely with a hand wave.

“Watson, _you’re_ a bit awkward; I honestly doubt they’re noticing anything is off.”

“You should probably call me John, you know,” he smirks.

I nod, “You’re right.”

He bends down to quickly put a bag together with some pull-ups (that he only needs on occasion anymore), wipes, and a couple of books. As he zips the bag and stands, he grabs Ralphie.

“Here, you can carry this,” he smiles as he hands the dragon to me. Our hands touch and our gazes lock as time seems to stop for a second.

This is when I decide that this is a dangerous game I’ve gotten myself involved in: pretending to be a couple with someone I’m pretty sure wants to actually be a couple with me as I do them. Not to mention his parents who are going to see whatever they want to see and will be unafraid to point them out since they think we’re already together.

He clears his throat, breaking the moment, and turns to grab the handle as I move behind him.

“Oh, and by the way,” he turns just his head to look at me over his left shoulder, door still closed. We’re very close together and his eyes flicker to my mouth for a brief moment before looking me in the eyes again, “they think you’re 24 and work in a research lab full time.”

He smiles at my look of shock and then walks out. I spare another moment to wonder exactly how long this lie of his has been evolving and if I’ve always been a part of it, then I move back in to the living room.

“Ready?” His dad asks.

“I just have to get him a glass of apple juice to go,” John says before moving to the kitchen.

I look at Barbara to find her staring straight back at me with a knowing smile. I can only imagine what it looks like for us to have come out of a room with a closed door, him looking smug and myself looking flushed. Remembering my acting part, I duck my head with a shy smile.

“Come on, sweetie,” she calls to the kitchen, turning from me, “our reservations are for 6:30.”

“Reservations?” He calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yes, reservations. Your father will drive.”

Kyle walks over to me, finally noticing the dragon in my arms. He holds his hands out for it greedily and I willingly hand it down. I laugh as the animal that comfortably rests in the crook of my arm makes him seem like he’s carrying the world.

He snuggles it happily and then looks to me with his big grey eyes, “Can I take him with, Lock? Please?”

“You’ll have to make sure with your dad.”

“Daddy please?” Kyle yells to the kitchen without moving, meaning there is no way John can hear him, especially not over his continued argument with his mother.

“I just don’t see why we need to go somewhere that needs reservations,” he says.

“Daddy please?” Kyle tries again.

“Because we want to take our grandson and this lovely young man you’ve found out somewhere nice,” Bill joins in the debate.

“Daddy! Please?!” He tries increasing his volume, but it’s absolutely no use.

“It’s not necessary,” John insists.

As Kyle opens his mouth to yell again, I take pity on him and bend down to his level, “Hey, sweetheart, how about we go ask him together, okay?” he nods and I stick my hands out as I stand, “up?” I ask and he raises his arms - as much as he can still holding the stuffed dragon - in answer.

“It’s our treat,” Barbara says, sounding exacerbated, as I walk into the kitchen to stand next to John. He looks at me questioningly and then to Kyle, at which point most of his frustrations melt off of his face.

“Now?” Kyle asks me.

“Go ahead,” I nod encouragingly.

He turns to John, puppy dog eyes in full force, “Daddy please?”

“Please what?” John asks.

Kyle hugs Ralphie closer and again says, “Please?”

John turns his confused gaze on me so I translate, “Can Ralphie come, too?”

He lets out a laugh and ruffles Kyle’s dark blonde hair, “Of course.”

“Yeah!” Kyle yells, smiling at me to see if I heard the news.

“See, sweetheart? Stick with me and you’ll have it made,” I give him a kind smile. I’m very aware of all the eyes watching me, even as Kyle throws his entire body closer to mine in an imitation of a hug since he has no free arms at the moment. I sigh quietly, laying my left cheek on the top of his head as I hold him just a little closer.

“Will you look at that, Bill?” I hear his mom whisper.

“He sure seems taken with him,” Bill agrees.

“He’s Kyle’s favorite,” John agrees while looking at me, mirroring his conversation with Mrs. Hudson not that long ago.

“We meant you, you fool,” Bill says and I laugh at John’s shocked look.

He splutters for a second before recovering to say, “Well, he is _my_ favorite, too.”

My smile widens and I shake my head while turning to his mom, “Looks like I’ve got a choice to make, because two wonderful, adorable gentlemen both say I’m their favorite.”

Barbara gives me a conspiratorial smile, “Maybe some food will help you decide.”

“Alright already, fine! We’ll go,” John gives in, not nearly as worked up about it as before.

“Up or down?” I ask Kyle.

“Daddy,” he replies.

“You heard the man,” I say to John.

As we trade him over this time, John’s hand runs across my stomach, causing my breath to catch.

“Sorry,” he smiles in that way that clearly says the person is not, in fact, sorry in the slightest. I shake my head with a small eye roll.

His parents open the front door and head to the hallway. As we’re walking out of the kitchen, I precede the boys and John places his hand on the small of my back. This game is getting very dangerous indeed.

As we walk in to the restaurant about 15 minutes later, I’m caught a bit off guard. It’s not that I’m underdressed, per say, but it’s obvious they serve expensive food and I am suddenly very aware of how little money I have with me.

John notices the look on my face and asks quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t afford this,” I reply just as quietly with a hint of an apology.

“I hope neither of you think you’re paying,” Barbara says, using her super human mum hearing to eaves drop.

“Mother, I am more than capable of paying for our meals,” he’s getting defensive again.

“I don’t want you to,” she states simply. It should leave no room for argument, but John finds a way.

He turns to me, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll cover us.”

“John Hamish Watson!” she says a bit too loudly for mine or John’s comfort, seeing as it drew the eyes of strangers to us, “you are not to touch your wallet except to sit on it if you so desire to.”

“Mum...” he starts, and I can’t take it.

I place my hand on his arm and he looks at me, “Please, it’s fine.”

His eyes soften as a good portion of his fight leaves him; not all of it like when he saw Kyle not that long ago, but I’ll take it. He nods slightly, “I’m sorry.”

I quirk a small smile to him as the hostess comes to walk us to our table at the back of the building. Before we start walking, John offers his arm to me and I thread my hand to hold his elbow. When we reach our table he pulls my chair out for me so I can sit down, and then he does the same for Kyle - adding in a lift to his booster seat - which makes me laugh.

As a table we look over our menus and I feel guilty all over again as I look at the prices. They’re not quite as bad as they could be, but for what they’re asking for a simple plate of spaghetti I feel like I should be paying...or at least be wearing trousers.

John pulls me out of my thoughts by placing his hand over mine on the table. I look to my left, in to his eyes, and he comes closer to stage whisper, “Don’t even think about ordering the cheapest thing; it’ll never work.”

“But what if it’s what I really want?”

“You want Fried Tuna Salad?” he asks and I wrinkle my nose in disgust, “They love bringing us here and I try for it every time.”

“One of these visits we’re going to let you follow through with that incredibly horrendous life choice,” Bill warns.

“Please, dear, don’t look at the prices and just order what you would like,” Barbara says as though her husband never spoke.

I nod and John’s hand leaves mine. I’m surprised to find that I miss the warmth.

When the waitress arrives to take our drink order, Bill speaks up for the table, “We’ll have a bottle of Pinot Grigio - four glasses - and a milk for the little one.”

“And are you ready to order?”

Everyone looks at me expectantly except for Kyle who’s too busy playing with Ralphie to notice.

“I certainly can be,” I smile kindly.

“What can I get you?” The waitress smiles at me.

“Cheese ravioli, please.”

She continues around the table - John orders lasagna, Bill the shrimp, Barbara a steak, and a cheese pizza for Kyle.

When the waitress walks away, Barbara immediately leans towards me, “She was flirting with you,” she says with contempt.

“What? I’m sure she wasn’t,” I say.

“She most certainly was,” she insists.

“She’s paid to be friendly, mum,” John pipes in.

“To be nice, not to ogle your boyfriend,” she fumes.

“Mum, honestly, she wasn’t eyeing him.”

“I watched her! You need to hold his hand or put your arm around him; anything! Otherwise she’s going to think she stands a chance.”

The ease with which this family is able to become riled up is actually quite alarming to me and I can’t help but try to do everything in my power to keep them rational, “Even if I was single - or straight - she wouldn’t stand a chance,” I smile as I grab John’s hand and intertwine our fingers.

Truth be told, this game gets a lot easier with time, even considering he was my professor last year.

The waitress returns with our drink order and kind of frowns as she glances at our entwined hands on the top of the table. My God, the crazed woman was right. Cut the loss, Sherlock; even if you wanted to date a woman, right now you’re “dating” the son of the couple next to you.

“Do you like white wine, Sherlock? I’m sorry I didn’t ask you before,” Bill asks as he pours our glasses.

“I typically prefer red, but this should pair well with the ravioli. Thank you.”

The glasses are passed around and after toasting to “the future” - whatever that means - we all sip and agree it’s a fine wine.

“So Sherlock,” Barbara places her glass on the table and gives her full attention to me, “how is business?”

I feared this.

“Very well. We’re working on an experiment to perfect cloning right now,” I bluff.

“I thought you mostly worked with vaccines?” Her brow furrows in a very familiar fashion.

I blink slowly just once, allowing my brain a second, “Most of the time, yes, but a few of my team were recruited to help with this side project because of our expertise.”

“So you get to use your Chemistry degree a lot then?” She asks.

“My what?” I say before I can stop myself.

“Chemistry...wasn’t that your major?”

No. It comes with the territory, but is not quite the truth.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that he had told you that,” I give a pointed look to John. He lets go of my hand and moves his chair closer to mine.

“Sounds like you found a good fit for you then,” she smiles.

“I really enjoy it a lot,” I almost even sound sincere.

John puts his arm around me, gently pulling me towards him. I shift my weight so it’s more comfortable to rest my left side against him. Beneath my arm I can feel the solid muscles of his chest and I repress a shiver.

“That’s much better,” Barbara says with an approving smile.

“Thank you for suggesting it,” John says with minimal snark.

“Mother knows best.”

“Or so she says,” Bill laughs.

As his parents start a conversation of their own, John leans in closer. His breath on my neck and ear cause a shiver that I am unable to control this time, and I’m certain he feels it.

“Is this okay?” He whispers in my ear before pulling away to look at me.

I turn to him and offer a smile and nod before I lean in to his ear, “How am I doing?” I whisper and I can feel his heart race before I pull back and offer my ear to him.

“Wonderful; you’re very charming,” he pulls away and offers his ear again.

“I told you I was a pretty decent actor.”

“I never would have guessed it, but I’m impressed nonetheless.”

“Good.”

“Good,” he whispers with his mouth just barely brushing my ear, then his mouth moves to the left slightly and he places a soft kiss there. I exhale through my nose and unconsciously move my body into his more.

“Bill, look at them,” I hear Barbara whisper and I smile as I open my eyes I didn’t know I’d closed to look at them.

“I’m sorry,” I blush deeply.

“Dear, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” she looks honestly touched by our display. Pretending to be John’s boyfriend for one night really means more to this family than I originally thought it would; I find myself glad that I agreed.

“Lock,” Kyle speaks up for the first time since we entered the restaurant, “I wet myself.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” I reinforce the habit I’ve finally gotten him in to. He used to sit for hours in wet pull ups not telling anyone. I look around the restaurant without moving much, “did anyone happen to see the restrooms?”

“I spotted the family one on the way in. I’ll go with you,” Barbara says and moves to stand.

“It’s no problem if you’d like to stay here, but you’re welcome to come,” I say to her and then direct my attention to John. I grab his hand and move his arm so that I can stand, “I have to go change your son,” I smile at him and rub his hand slightly before letting go.

“I could go,” he offers as I move around his chair to reach the bag between his and Kyle’s seats.

“An empty offer; you know he asks for the only one he wants at the moment,” I joke.

“That is true. I’ll see you back shortly.”

When the three of us get to the bathroom, Kyle decides that he has to go poop but insists that he can go alone.

As Barbara and I wait on the other side of the divider, she turns to me, “I haven’t seen him this happy in years.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“No, really, he’s like a different person with you and it’s obvious that Kyle adores you.”

“And I adore him.”

“I’m done!” he shouts from the toilet and I move to help him wipe then bring him around to the table to be changed.

“To be honest, Sherlock, we were a little worried when we heard you were only 24,” I feel guilty because I’m actually only 22, “but you two work well together. You look like a couple; you know how you can see that in people?”

“Yes,” I say, half expecting Kyle to jump in and blow our cover.

“He never had that with Mary.”

I have heard the name of Kyle’s mother maybe once before and I have barely any details of what happened there, “Really?” I ask instead.

“She was nice, but you could tell she wouldn’t stick around.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, because I’m unsure what else there is to vocalize.

“Oh don’t be,” she finishes pulling Kyle’s pants on, “from what I can see, you’re much better for them anyway.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” the guilt returns. Never talk to the mother who thinks you’re dating her only son unless you’re actually dating her only son.

“What do you think, Kyle? You like Sherlock?”

“I love him! I told daddy I wanted him to stay and never leave, but he just said _‘Maybe next time’._ ”

To her that probably sounds like moving in or another kind of commitment, but to me it’s all babysitting. I want to be with John, I can’t deny that to myself any longer, and the evidence keeps getting more convincing that he wants me, too. Like that kiss that was hidden completely from his parents’ view so it couldn’t have been for their benefit.

“Let’s go, I’m hungry!” Kyle says and heads towards the door with authority. The little man always makes me smile, I can’t help it.

The food has arrived by the time we return to the table and John had cut Kyle’s pizza in to manageable bites while we were gone, so we all immediately begin eating.

“That took a while,” Bill says.

“It did not,” she chides.

“I went poo-poo all by myself!” Kyle tells John proudly.

“That’s very good, love,” he smiles warmly at him.

The rest of the meal is uneventful; I make sure not to drink too much wine since I still have to babysit tonight.

When we walk in to the apartment around 8:30, Barbara gives me a warm hug, “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

I smile as she pulls back, “Likewise. Thank you for the lovely dinner.”

“It was our pleasure, dear.”

Bill comes over and shakes my hand firmly, “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll try not to be,” I lie.

John comes up beside me, placing an arm around my waist, “We’ll try not to be too late,” he tells me.

“Take your time; I’m not going anywhere,” I say and then blush as I realize how it sounds.

“The sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll be back,” Bill points out and everyone agrees.

John looks down to Kyle, “Be good for Sherlock.”

“Duh!” The fact that he already knows when to utilize an eye roll is quite possibly my influence, but I can’t bring myself to be sorry about it.

John laughs and turns back to me, “Have fun. You know where everything is.”

“Yes,” I nod.

“Alright then, I’ll be back later,” after a moment of deliberation he pulls me a little tighter and closes the distance between our faces to place a kiss on my cheek.

“Okay, Romeo, let’s get going,” Bill laughs.

Kyle and I spend the next hour playing with his toys. He always thinks he’s going to be able to stay up long enough to see his dad return, but he rarely ever does. When he decides that it’s time to watch a movie, I’m silently grateful to be able to sit quietly and turn my brain off. He chooses _Finding Nemo_ and I’m hardly surprised; it’s been his movie of choice for the last four months.

When I turn around after putting the disc in the player I see him standing next to the couch, “Lay down now, please,” he says to me politely. I chuckle as I follow his order, lying on my back. As soon as I settle, he crawls up onto the couch and snuggles next to me and I wrap my arms around him securely. John finds both of us asleep in this same position about an hour later.

I wake up when I feel Kyle being lifted from my arms and he smiles apologetically at me as he continues his mission to get the child to his bed.

I sit up and wipe the sleep from my eyes, unsure why I actually fell asleep; I typically don’t need any sleep at all for days on end.

John comes back in and sits next to me on the couch, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No problem, I wasn’t even tired; not sure why I fell asleep.”

“Probably the powers of the human radiator wrapped around you, honestly.”

I chuckle, “Might have been that. How was the after party?”

“There wasn’t as much yelling as I anticipated thanks to you,” he says with his eyes on the movie.

“How did _I_ help?” I send a glance his way but then am drawn back to the movie myself.

“They enjoyed your company and you negated at least one of their debating points.”

“Which was?”

“That I haven’t found someone suitable for Kyle and myself yet.”

I turn to him fully now out of shock from the statement. He’s blushing slightly and my heart is beating a little faster. “Well I’m glad they found me suitable.”

He turns to me with a sad smile, “You had doubts?”

“You know not very many people actually like me, so yes, I can be quite unsure of my charms most of the time.”

“They always work on my family, it would appear.”

“I’m glad,” I say quietly, honestly.

We lapse in to silence, both of our faces falling. It’s very rare that he does not smile in his own home and I’m finding that his sad look is a bit distressing to me. I want to ask why he’s sad and I truly would like to help make it better, but I’ve never been good with sentiment or situations like this in general so I continue to sit silently.

“Thank you for doing this tonight; I can pay you extra for your time.”

My eyes instantly harden at the words, “You don’t honestly think I want to be paid for that do you?”

“It’s only fair,” he continues sadly.

No way. It may not have been real, but I refuse to let him cheapen it by paying me like some common hussy. I try to compose myself before speaking, but I’m still glaring daggers at him. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not be paid for meeting your parents. Pay me for the time I’ve been watching Kyle, but not for that,” there’s an edge of pleading to my voice by the end and I don’t give a damn.

“You didn’t have to do it, though.”

“I also didn’t have to babysit in the first place,” I deadpan, “Please don’t treat me like some escort; I did it as a favor.”

His face falls, “Oh, Sherlock, I didn’t mean to imply it like that, I’m sorry. I just feel like I should repay you somehow.”

I finally start to calm, “I got a free meal; as a college student that’s more than enough,” I attempt a joke to try and get us both smiling again, thankfully it works, “as I said: it was a favor.”

His smile is small but at least it’s genuine now as he looks me in the eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s fine.”

He leans forward with a heavy sigh so that his elbows are on his knees, his head in his hands. This is not how he typically comes home, but then, tonight was hardly a typical babysitting gig.

“Do you want the truth?” He asks quietly from his new position.

I want to tell him that I was unaware that I’ve been hearing lies, but instead say, “Yes.”

“I didn’t want it to even be a favor.”

My brain works to try to decipher the message but I can’t, “What do you mean?”

He sits up again and looks at me to make sure I’m not playing dumb. As if that’s something I have ever done in my life.

“I would have preferred it to be real.”

“Oh,” is all my literally brilliant mind comes up with.

“My parents saw what I’ve been denying to myself for so long. You are amazing with Kyle and he loves you, that much I knew. What I couldn’t admit were my own feelings towards you. It’s incredibly difficult for me to admit it even now because I’m a teacher and you’re still a student.”

“Not _your_ student anymore, and I graduate soon,” I supply helpfully, hoping it’s enough to give him the courage to continue.

“Right, I know that,” he smiles slightly, “it’s just a weird barrier to overcome, honestly. But Sherlock, I really need to know if you felt what I did tonight.”

He’s so nervous - we both are.

“Yes,” I admit without looking from his eyes.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

He reaches over slowly to intertwine his fingers with my left hand, “Did you miss this?” he whispers.

I squeeze his hand and whisper, “Yes.”

He lets out a breath, “I obviously don’t know what either of our futures hold, but I do know that right now there is no one in this entire world who is so good with Kyle or who makes me happier.”

My smile is blinding as a sense of happiness radiates through my entire body at his words. They’re words that I was unaware I even longed to hear: that these two wonderful boys want me in their lives as much as I want to be here.

“So, maybe the next time my parents come up to scold me, they could meet you as my real boyfriend?” He asks shyly, hope shining in his eyes.

I laugh in relief, “I believe that can be arranged.”

He smiles as he raises his free left hand to rub across my cheek as it moves to settle at the base of my neck. He slowly draws his face closer to mine, his eyes flickering between my eyes and my mouth. He tilts his head slightly and softly rubs our noses together in a sensual version of an eskimo kiss. It brings his mouth close to mine but does not touch, and then he pulls away.

His pupils are blown wide but he’s checking to make sure that I’m agreeable to what he’s trying to do. I have never wanted to kiss someone so badly in all my life. It must show in my eyes, because he smirks triumphantly before moving in swiftly to kiss me hard. It’s a passionate, close-mouthed kiss and completely perfect. I can honestly say that a kiss has never stolen my breath from me before, and I think it’s a feeling I’ll be getting often.

I let go of his right hand so I can move both hands in to his hair and pull his mouth tighter to mine. He lets out a quiet moan and moves his right hand to my back to try to draw our bodies closer together.

I feel his lips start to part and mine echo the movement without him needing to hint at his intentions. The open-mouthed kisses are as desperate as the close-mouthed ones were passionate, but both are hard.

When the kiss comes to an end, he places several soft regretful kisses to my lips before pulling away completely and smiling brilliantly at me.

“I think I made the right choice in my favorite,” he says.

I laugh, “Well, Kyle’s _my_ favorite,” at his scandalized look I take mercy on him and add, “but you’re a very close second,” before I kiss him again.

When this kiss ends he stands from the couch and offers his hand to lead me to his bedroom. Once inside with the door closed, we slowly divest each other of our clothes, kissing the exposed skin as it appears. I have never actually been intimate with anyone because I’ve never felt the desire; that is certainly not the case with John, and I have no doubts that I want everything from this man.

Once all of our clothes have been removed he leads me to the bed. He lies down on his back and beckons to me with a shy smile which I return before joining him. He pulls me over him, hands on my hips, and reaches up for a kiss that I happily supply. After his lips I move to his neck, teasing more than kissing, which causes his entire body to arch up as he moans quietly.

I smirk as I kiss straight down his chest before taking his cock in my mouth. This I have done before, but they always kept their clothes on. It has never been like this and I find that I much prefer this man and this situation to any of my previously limited encounters.

After a couple of minutes of his deliciously indecent sounds, he places his hands in my hair to guide me back to his lips. He kisses me passionately before flipping me onto my back, wrenching a startled laugh from me. He smiles down at me before moving to kiss a spot just below my ear that makes me moan louder than I intended.

“Shhh,” he whispers in my ear with a hint of a smile, “One day I will take you somewhere that you can scream and make those beautiful noises as loud as you want, but now is not that time,” he licks the shell of my ear before quickly moving to my shoulder just above my collar bone and sucking hard. I make a desperate whine that I try to keep as quiet as I can, but he makes it very difficult.

Once he has surely left a mark, he bites my nipples briefly on his way down my stomach and to my cock. The way he takes it in and knows exactly where to tongue and how hard to suck lets me know that I am not the first man he’s been with, but I don’t care. If only for now, he is mine.

He slowly climbs my body again to kiss my lips quickly before leaning over to the bedside table. He pulls out a condom and some lube and then looks at me, “Okay?”

A wave of desire washes through my body and I nod slightly, “I...I’ve never...” I mumble.

His eyes widen and then he’s kissing me again, guiding us on to our sides so we’re facing each other.

“When you say never...” he asks once we part.

“I mean I’ve never felt the desire to like I do with you,” I admit and I can see doubt enter his eyes, “I want this; we wouldn’t have gotten this far if I didn’t.”

“So you’ve never been on top _or_ bottom?”

“No,” I shake my head.

“You’ve never been with a man _or_ a woman?”

“No.”

His eyes are calculating and I fear he will decide that this is a step best not taken right now, and I panic. I pull his face to mine and kiss him passionately, bringing our cocks together. We both moan in to our shared space before I pull from the kiss, “Please, listen to my body if you won’t listen to my words. Everything is telling you that I want this.”

He nods, closing his eyes before placing his forehead against mine. He pecks my lips before speaking, “I was hoping you would take me, anyway. Your first time on bottom will not be like this, not tonight.”

“You want _me_ to...”

“Yes. God yes,” he kisses me again, “but only if you want to. If you’re not ready...”

He starts to give me an out but I cut his words off with another hard kiss, pushing him on to his back. When we’re ready, he guides me verbally and physically in preparing him. He places the condom and strokes the lube on for me, and I have to bite my lip hard not to make too much noise.

He wraps his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck, pulling me in for a deep kiss. “Slow,” he whispers with immense trust in his eyes. It’s the last word spoken as we leave the rest of our communication up to our moans. If anyone had asked me to describe the difference between making love and fucking, I probably would have described something very close to this experience, but it still would have paled in comparison.

After we’re both spent and cleaned up, he pulls me to his chest and places a kiss on the top of my forehead.

“Goodnight, Sherlock,” he whispers as his right hand plays with my left that’s resting over his heart.

“Goodnight, John,” I whisper back, placing a kiss on his chest before drifting off to sleep.

The following morning we get up together and find Kyle in the living room watching cartoons.

“Lock!” He jumps up and runs to hug my legs, “you stayed!”

“I sure did, sweetheart,” I run the fingers of my right hand through his hair.

He looks up at me but doesn’t let go of my legs, “Does this mean you’re never going to leave?”

“Well, I’ll have to leave to go to school during the week,” I say, then glance at John before continuing, “but I’ll be back.”

He looks put out and as though a massive pout is on the horizon. John sees this and kneels down to head it off, “Hey, love,” he gently turns Kyle towards him, “it’s the best we can offer you right now, but he won’t leave for good.”

“We get to keep him now?” his eyes light up and I laugh.

“Yeah,” John says and then looks up at me with a smile, “we get to keep him.”

My smile brightens and I move my right hand to his hair instead of Kyle’s.

He indulges me for only a few seconds before he stands, “Who’s hungry for some breakfast?”

I follow him in to the kitchen and Kyle goes back to watching TV.

“By the way, Lestrade can’t know about this,” I tell him seriously.

He turns to me with a confused look, “I sense a story.”

“He approached me about our flirting and I told him it was harmless, but you’re on some thin ice,” I say and walk closer to him, placing a hand on his chest, “just...be careful; I don’t want to lose you.”

“Gross! Are you gonna kiss?” Kyle intrudes from the doorway.

We both look at him and laugh before John kisses me gently.

"Ew, daddy! What about cooties?”

“Some people are worth that risk, love,” he tells him honestly.

Kyle walks over to us and I lift him up to my left hip as usual. I turn to John and see the look that he always gets when he sees me hold Kyle, except now I know what it means. It means he sees a potential partner in all of this, someone to help share the load, and I think I can see it, too. _Not_ that I’m thinking about marriage yet.

When they drop me back off at campus later that day, I give each of them a kiss.

“We'll see you later?” John asks.

“Absolutely,” I smile.

As I’m walking away I hear Kyle ask, “Daddy? Are we gonna be a family?” through the open car windows. I slow my walking to hear the answer.

“Maybe next time,” he says, and I smile for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> I clearly have no idea what it takes to get a Pharmaceutical degree or what type of classes they take, so I made so much of that up. Terribly sorry if that threw you out of it at all.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to hear your thoughts, including any (constructive, please) feedback on how to improve it.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goddess-of-the-night04) for an easy way to keep up with any new stories from me or just to chat; I'd love hear from you :)
> 
> 3/23 Update: If you enjoyed this, there is now a part 2 (and a part 3 in the works in my brain/notebook)


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